Bubblicious
by WiliQueen
Summary: Not all supernatural threats are dark and dire. Some are downright silly. Written for MaraG in the LiveJournal fandom stocking exchange.


"No, I said pink!" Coreen's voice in the outer office was barely audible. Who knew mounds of bubble-gum-scented froth could muffle sound that effectively? There was a pause, and then an indignant, "I did _not_! Besides, most of the stuff you need for those spells isn't even -- okay, yes, I might have peeked at a few pages, but I would never -- Henry? Hello?"

There had to be a more efficient way to do this than swiping her jacket around in front of her, but Vicki hadn't managed to come up with one in the four minutes or so since the bubbles had materialized out of nowhere, quickly filling her office from floor to ceiling. And since she wasn't in a hurry to try breathing whatever they were made of, holding one arm in front of her mouth and nose and using her jacket for a machete would have to do for now.

She burst through the surface of the fluffy mass at the doorway, only to find it was spilling into the outer office, already knee-high in spots.

"Vicki!" Coreen started toward her, still holding the phone handset.

Vicki held up a hand. "Stay back. Don't get any of this on you."

The girl's eyes went wide in alarm, but she obediently took a step back. "What about you?"

"Fine so far, but I don't want to take any chances." Glancing down at the still-advancing bubbles, she added, "Better get up on your desk. What did Henry say?"

"Not much." Coreen waved the phone before plunking it back onto its base and climbing up beside it to sit on her heels. "It's dead. Shorted out or something." More hopefully, she added, "But I'm sure Henry's on his way."

"What did I hear you saying about spells?"

Coreen shifted her weight, plucking at the hem of her plaid miniskirt. "That book Dr. Sagara dropped off on her way to the airport this afternoon?" At Vicki's look, she rushed to add, "I was just _looking_! Cross my heart! I didn't even read anything out loud!"

Vicki pushed her hair back from her face and came away with a sticky coating of pink shimmer. Wiping her hand against her jeans just made it worse. At least it smelled good. "Okay, calm down. It might not even be that. Though if someone's attacking us, you'd think they --"

The front door swung open, and Mike Celluci stood framed in the doorway, eyebrows reaching for his hairline. "Maybe I'm just weird, but I always had the impression a bubblebath involved, y'know, a _bath_."

"Mike, close the door!"

Without missing a beat, he stepped in and slammed it. Apparently she should have been more specific.

"Are you crazy? I meant from outside!"

"Why?" Mike scoffed. "Are they man-eating demon bubbles?" Frowning, he poked a toe at the edge creeping toward him. "Uh... They're not man-eating demon bubbles, are they?"

"At this point, anything is possible. Coreen, where's that book?"

Coreen pointed to the top of the filing cabinet in the corner and moved to stand up.

"No, you stay put. I'll get it."

On the second step she discovered just how slick bubbles on hardwood could be, and caught herself on the frame of the frosted window as her feet skidded out from under her. Muscles all down her right side protested as she kept her head above the surface of the bubbles, but only just.

"Vicki!" Mike yelled, dashing toward her without a second thought.

He made it three long strides before slipping, falling backward with nothing to catch hold of, and she had the sickening feeling that loud _thunk_ on the floor was his head. Coreen made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeak, and Vicki winced.

"Coreen, stay put," she ordered again, shuffling carefully toward the dent in the pink foam, already filling itself in, where he had fallen. "Mike? Mike!"

There was no answer for a couple seconds, then he sat up sputtering. Vicki cleared his face as best she could with one hand and propped him up with the other when he threatened to topple back into the suds.

"Mike, look at me. You okay?"

He blinked at her, and she had the strong suspicion she wasn't quite in focus. "You smell good," he mumbled finally.

Vicki rolled her eyes. "The whole office smells good. Come on, let's get you up on the couch. This stuff is still rising."

The sound of a drawer opening behind her, and then Coreen called from her perch, "Vicki?" She held up a white plastic pouch -- a chemical cold pack from the first aid kit in her desk.

"Good idea." She managed to manhandle Mike up onto the waiting area couch, with something like help from his end, then held up her hand for Coreen to toss the pack. Vicki grabbed it from the air with enough force to pop the inner seal, and pressed the rapidly chilling pack against the back of Mike's head. "Can you hold that?"

"Sure." He winced. "Your floor is hard."

"Good thing your head is harder."

"The bubbles are getting deeper."

"Right." She briefly rested a reassuring hand on his chest, then stood and turned around to survey the room. Her office door continued to belch forth pink bubbles, and oh, God, what the hell was Coreen doing?

Clompy boots clung to the very corner of the desk, stripey-sleeved arms reached across the top of the filing cabinets toward the back corner, and the rest of her stretched precariously over a mass of bubbles that was now up to the desktop. Only when she had hold of the book did she seem to notice she was overextended, with no leverage to get her feet back under her. "Oh. Um."

Before Vicki could tell her to keep still, she placed both hands -- one still holding the book -- on the near edge of the filing cabinet and pushed off. She had completely miscalculated. Her feet slipped from the desk, and for a split-second she seemed to hang in the air, every limb perfectly positioned for a bad landing.

At the same time, the door opened again, and a dark blur streaked across the room, cutting a canyon through the pink foam and sending bits of it floating through the air. There was a _whoosh_ of breath, and then Henry set a very surprised but uninjured Coreen back on top of the desk. "Are you okay?" She nodded, and Henry opened the book and set it in her lap. "Good. Read. _Carefully_."

He turned to Vicki, laughter overtaking the worry on his face. "You know, when I said your decor needed a little updating, this wasn't what I had in mind."

"You and me both," she agreed with a snort. "Gotta say, it really doesn't seem like Coreen's style either."

"That's because I didn't do it," Coreen said, though she was still dutifully paging through the book.

Vicki blew out a sigh. "Well, so far it hasn't been anything but messy..."

"And slippery," Mike put in behind her. She turned to find him levering himself into a more upright sitting position, as the bubbles climbed up to the arm of the couch where he had been leaning. "Don't forget slippery."

"Uncertain of your footing, Detective?"

"Let's see how long you hold onto that smirk with a faceful of this pink crap, Fitzroy."

"Hey!" Vicki held up a warning hand at each of them. "You two start that again, and I'm going to throw you both in there to work it out." She pointed at the door to her office, where the flow of bubbles continued.

Across the room, Coreen snickered. "Might help. I mean, you can pop bath bubbles with a hair dryer."

Henry's smirk widened. "Congratulations, Detective Celluci. You've found the one situation where a talent for blowing hot air is useful."

"Yeah, I guess you know what to look for when dear old Dad was one of the biggest blowhards in history."

"I get the feeling you two aren't taking my threat seriously," Vicki grumbled. "It's the pink goo in my hair, isn't it?"

"Guys! I found it!" Coreen scrambled up to a kneeling position, running her finger across the book and reading off a string of syllables that sounded like Jabberwocky after a violent encounter with a food processor.

The bubbles exploded. More accurately, every tiny bubble in the office popped at once. There was shimmering pink residue everywhere, even on the ceiling, but no more bubbles were appearing.

Henry was the first of them to move, very deliberately combing the fingers of both hands through the front of his hair, then shaking the excess pink stuff from his hands as best he could. With the utmost dignity, he walked across the room, took the book from Coreen's hands, and walked out the door without a word.

The laughter hadn't quite made it up to Vicki's larynx when Coreen crossed her arms, looked her straight in the eye, and declared, "I still didn't do it."


End file.
